


Cutter's Home for the Unwanted, Misbehaving, and Otherwise Strange

by goodbee



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Foster kids, Found Family, anyway it takes place in 1994, dumb 90s au, everyone is a kid!, marcus cutter: shockingly decent parent!, miranda pryce: unshockingly awful parent!, most of their ages are actually what they would've been in 1994!, xcept hera! this fic took a lot of math!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 13:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17163137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbee/pseuds/goodbee
Summary: All five of the other foster kids were sitting on the front porch when they pulled into the driveway. The second oldest one was holding the baby - Doug vaguely remembered the angry lady mentioning something about her daughter being biological, not fostered. Five foster kids, one biological. And now, Doug.--Mr. Cutter has a habit of taking in strays.





	Cutter's Home for the Unwanted, Misbehaving, and Otherwise Strange

The new house had five bedrooms. Doug was going to be sharing a room with the baby. Which he wasn’t happy about, but whatever. It could’ve been worse.

 

The smiley man was chatting idly with Doug as the angry woman drove them to the new house. Doug didn’t want to ask why they were fostering another kid if the woman seemed so unhappy about it; he didn’t want them to reconsider. He didn’t care that much, anyway. There was gonna be another boy his age at the house, and a girl who was just a little bit older who he could probably play with. And he had the Game Boy that his last foster family had bought him for Christmas, so he was good.

 

All five of the other foster kids were sitting on the front porch when they pulled into the driveway. The second oldest one was holding the baby - Doug vaguely remembered the angry lady mentioning something about her daughter being biological, not fostered. Five foster kids, one biological. And now, Doug.

 

The smiley man took Doug’s hand and walked with him up to the house. The angry lady trailed behind them.

 

The two oldest kids stood as the grown-ups walked up.

 

“Hi, Dad, Dr. Pryce. Welcome home,” the girl said, at the same time the boy said, “Mr. Cutter. Dr. Pryce.”

 

At the sight of her mother, the baby started crying. Without thinking, Doug let go of the smiley man’s hand and stepped forward in an attempt to comfort her. He wiped a tear off her cheek, and she grabbed his finger with her whole hand and laughed. The girl holding her smiled hesitantly.

 

“I think Hera likes you,” she said.

 

“Her name is Hera?”

 

“Like the goddess.”

 

“Her name is Henrietta,” the angry woman said, and she said nothing else. She just pushed past the kids and went inside.

 

“Dr. Pryce is the only one who calls her that,” the girl said. “Alana couldn’t pronounce her name at first, so it got shortened to Hera.”

 

“I could, too,” the youngest foster girl said. She looked young. The boy that was holding her hand - Doug assumed he was the one that was the same age as him, even though he was short - patted her head.

 

“Can we go inside already? It’s fucking freezing,” another girl said. 

 

“Language, Isabel,” the smiley man said.

 

“ _ May _ we go inside already? It’s fucking  _ freezing _ .”

 

“You wouldn’t be so cold if you put on a coat like I  _ asked you to  _ \- ”

 

“Shut the hell up, Renée.”

 

“Girls!” the smiley man said. His face didn’t change. Something did, though, because the hair on the back of Doug’s neck stood up and the two girls - Renée and Isabel - muttered immediate apologies to each other. The smiley man nodded. 

 

“Warren, give Isabel your jacket, please,” he said. The oldest boy frowned, but he pulled off his leather jacket and tossed it at Isabel.

 

“Alright! Can we all introduce ourselves? You can start, Isabel, since you’re so desperate to get this over with.”

 

Isabel groaned. “Isabel Lovelace.”

 

“Age, too, please.”

 

“Isabel Lovelace. 14.”

 

“Thank you! Renée?”

 

“Renée Minkovski. 16. And, uh, Hera Pryce, one.”

 

“Daniel Jacobi, 12. This is Alana - ”

 

“I can introduce myself, Daniel! Alana Maxwell, six.”

 

There was a long pause as everyone looked to the oldest boy. He rolled his eyes, but he stepped forward and shook Doug’s hand.

 

“Warren Kepler. 17.”

 

Doug looked up at him with awe. He was tall, with shoulder-length hair and cuts peppering his hands and face. He looked halfway between Kurt Cobain and Danny from  _ Grease _ . 

 

He seemed very, very cool.

 

Doug’s reverie was cut short by the smiley man clearing his throat. “And you, Doug?” he prompted.

 

“Oh! Uh. Doug Eiffel, 12?”

 

“Thank you, Doug! We’re really glad to have you here. In case you don’t remember, my name is Mr. Cutter, and my partner is Dr. Pryce. You can call me Dad, if you prefer; everyone but Warren does.”

 

“Uh, okay.” (Doug was very glad that Mr. Cutter had repeated his name. He  _ had _ forgotten.)

 

At a nod from Mr. Cutter, everyone walked inside, lining up Von-Trapp-style. 

 

Renée showed Doug where his and Hera’s room was when she put Hera down for a nap. It was nice enough, plenty of space even with the crib. There was a blue bunk bed and white everything else, all of it perfectly neat. Laying on her white blanket in her white crib with her white skin and nearly white hair, Hera looked either angelic or alien.

 

“Kinda weird, huh?” Renée whispered, noticing Doug staring. Doug nodded as Renée steered him out of the room and shut the door.

 

“She’s a bit of a strange kid, honestly. Sometimes I think Dr. Pryce did some kind of experiment on her or something. She never cries unless Pryce is there. She’ll just lay in bed until someone gets her out,” Renée said, stepping out into the hall.

 

“She’s creepy,” Doug said.

 

“I’m not sure I’d say creepy - ”`

 

“Oh, she’s  _ definitely  _ creepy,” Isabel interrupted, stepping out of a room behind Renée, making her jump. “The kid’s an alien.”

 

“Isabel!” Renée gasped.

 

“What? You honestly think any human would screw Pryce?”

 

“Just because we don’t know who the father is doesn’t mean - ”

 

“Wait, isn’t Mr. Cutter the father?” Doug asked. Isabel snorted.

 

“ _ God _ , no.”

 

“Aren’t they married?”

 

“Yes,  _ technically _ . They sleep in different rooms, if ya know what I mean.”

 

“Isabel, please,” Renée snapped. 

 

“They literally do!”

 

“Dad and Dr. Pryce’s relationship is… ambiguous,” Renée said, turning to Doug and using that I’m-talking-to-a-child-now voice grown ups use while trying to explain things. 

 

“I think they started hating each other when Cutter adopted Warren. They just need to bang it out,” Isabel stage whispered to Doug, who was starting to think Isabel might be his favorite. 

 

Renée elbowed Isabel. “They don’t hate each other. They just - well, I don’t think they ever loved each other like  _ that _ ,” she said.

 

“Yeah, whatever, Minkovski.”

 

They all ate dinner at a long, rectangular table with Mr. Cutter on one end and Dr. Pryce on the other. Everything was all home cooked by Mr. Cutter. Doug sat in between Isabel and Hera, with Renée helping feed Hera on her other side. Warren, Daniel, and Alana sat opposite them. Cutter took Daniel’s Game Boy when he saw him playing it under the table. Cutter had made a pie for dessert. Hera and Alana went to bed first, but Daniel and Doug were only allowed to stay up a bit later. 

 

Doug laid on his bed in his new, white room. Hera looked at him through the slats of her crib, grey eyes wide and silent. 

 

He stood and climbed into her crib. He put her on his lap and held her.

 

“You seem lonely,” he whispered. And they both slept.


End file.
